Great Minds
by smart-blonde-the-oxymoron
Summary: Galileo: Great Mind; Einstein: Extraordinary Mind; John Nash: Beautiful Mind; Light Yagami: Brilliant Mind; Me: ...Never mind. Lack of academic intelligence is never an asset. And to think, I still managed to create so much trouble all because I was in the way of a stupid motorcycle... LightOC
1. Crash

**New story at last! **

**PLEASE DON'T KILL ME FOR NOT FINISHING 'FEE FYE FOE FUM' FIRST! D: I CAN EXPLAIN! *clears throat* Err… see below this?**

**This has been sitting on my laptop for many months now (so it's not like I put off the already pretty-late, next chapter of 'Fee Fye Foe Fum' to type this) and I decided (with the influence of a few of my lovely readers of course) to post it as kind of a preview thingy. I won't update it for a little while just so I can try and finish my other story first, but you guys wanted it, you got it :)**

**Also, this is currently rated M for violence, coarse language, and plenty of death and mayhem that kind of exceeded the amount a T rated story should contain - NOT for a lemon. I don't really plan on writing one at the moment...**

**Another thing. I am fully aware that Light is a total bastard. I loved the ending of the series and totally believe he deserved every bullet and probably quite a few more heart attacks (even though I **_**did**_** fangirl over him for most of the series and cosplayed as him for my first anime convention… Never going as a character **_**not**_** of my own gender **_**ever again… **_**ANYWHO!). However, this is Fanfiction! Hence, I shall warp it either way. Don't worry. I plan on taking him down a few pegs (or at least pissing him off beyond comprehension). **

**Ladies and gents, without further ado - **

…

**Oh! Almost forget that lousy disclaimer. **

**DISCLAIMER : I do not own **_**Death Note**_**! It is the property of Tsugumi Ohba-senpai and Takeshi Obata-senpai. Bless their souls. **

**NOW!**

**Ladies and gents, without further ado, I introduce to you… 'Great Minds**_**.**_**'**

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"_The future has been entrusted to my hands."_

_- Light Yagami_

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"_Another sixteen deaths were reported this morning by the Japanese Police Force - all suspected to be the work of Kira. The sixteen victims were being held in prison at the time of death and were awaiting bail. The names of the deceased are as follows - "_

I frowned and sent my roommate a frustrated glare when she increased the volume on the television. Shinju scowled sourly back, finger jabbing defiantly at the little 'up' arrow on the remote. I rolled my eyes with a sigh and plopped down at the small table in our apartment's kitchenette, digging a spoon into my cereal. She may have been so obsessed with Kira that she felt the need to hear the name of each and every criminal killed, but I was not.

Kira, whoever he or she was, had spread through the media like wildfire over the past few years. Everywhere a person turned, 'KIRA' was splattered across the headlines in bold font. Every classroom buzzed with debate over the world's new 'savior.' Every TV and radio station held talk shows about the topic. Every wall was coated in promotional posters - _Praise Our Savior. Support the Police. Protect The People. Protect Life. Kira is Justice. Kira is Evil. _It was a never-ending international buzz.

Truthfully, it was starting to get old.

…Particularly now that the 'Anti-Kira' activists were so scarce.

" _- Files containing the names and photos of over fifteen hundred prisoners were leaked this past week over the internet. Investigators suspect this to be the work of a Kira supporter who was able to hack into a police data base - "_

Shinju beamed, face practically pressed against the glowing screen.

For others like her, I suppose Kira was still new… a fresh beginning…

The loud and screechy alarm on Shinju's phone cut through the still air of our apartment and I sighed, glancing up at the clock. _9:54_. I stood, tossing my paint splattered messenger bag over my shoulder and reaching down to lace up my equally coated tennis shoes. I placed my bowl in the sink and sent a small goodbye wave over my shoulder before heading out the door. Class started in thirty-four minutes… that was plenty of time to walk to Geidai. Ueno Park was just a block away from my apartment complex and most of the traffic at this time of day seemed to be on the roads rather than the sidewalks.

The elevator made a light 'ding' and I stepped inside, hitting the button for the lobby and mentally checking over the list of things I needed for the day. The elevator made its slow decent to the ground level and I stepped out, walking over to the elderly woman at the front desk.

"Good morning, Yamashita-san! Is there something you need?"

I nodded, readjusting the strap of my messenger bag.

"Do I have any mail? I haven't checked for a few days."

She pulled a large bin out from beneath her desk and began sorting through the assortment of envelopes.

"No… I don't see any. How odd. I swore I saw something with your name on it the other day. I remember because the handwriting was so odd and - Ah! Here you are, dear."

I nodded in thanks and took the bulky manila envelope she offered, heading to the door. The familiar, messy, scrawl of my father stared back at me and I smiled. I carefully worked my finger underneath the seal and began to pry it open.

"_Have a nice day!_"

"You too…" I called back absentmindedly, pushing the door open with my foot and walking out onto the street.

I read over his letter while I walked, carefully weaving through the sidewalk traffic.

My father was incredibly old fashioned; something that I adored. The reason his handwriting was as messy as it was resulted from the fact that he was continuously attempting to copy the penmanship of those in the sixteenth century Western cultures that he researched in his spare time. He refused to send email to both me and my sister unless absolutely necessary, saying that electronic messaging could not compare to the feeling of communicating with ink and paper. He was right of course. Nothing could be better than opening one of my father's handwritten letters. He always said that there was no greater joy than creating with the hands and with the heart. That belief was what had driven me to become an artist.

I shifted through the photos he'd included in the envelope. A small smile spread across my lips as I glanced over them. My parents' tanned faces and exotic, flowery, shirts beamed up at me from the shiny surface of the photograph. The next picture showed the two of them standing in front of a large sign. My mind slowly made sense of the English garble written across it in vibrant orange. So they were in Hawaii now, were they? That was in the United States if my memory served correctly. Maybe they would visit my older sister at Yale University while they were in the country…

The next picture was a close up of my mother's terrified face as a man dressed in nothing more than a grass skirt juggled flaming rods over her head. The next, my father laughing hysterically. The next, my mother slamming some kind of salad into his face. I grinned and stuffed the envelope and photos into my bag. I could look at the rest after class.

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"Alright, everyone. We'll be starting a new project today," our professor sighed, placing a large pile of papers on her desk. "Every year, I have my students focus on creating a painting that deals with projecting 'awareness.' Because of the ongoing debates of the past few years, I chose Kira as this class's focal point."

I frowned, pencil pausing on my paper. The girl seated next to me leaned over to high-five her friend. A boy sitting in front of me groaned and turned to glance sourly at his desk mate, mumbling something along the lines of 'can you believe this shit?'

"I want you all to portray how _you_ see Kira - not society's view of him. Be creative. Let your emotions show through in your work," she paused, glancing around the classroom. "Start writing down ideas. Sketch out some thumbnails of possible options. I want you to _express_ yourselves," she smiled. "Put your heart into this project."

The room burst into idle chatter and I sighed, flipping to the next page in my sketchbook. I tapped the eraser of the pencil lightly against my chin. _Kira, Kira, Kira… How do I capture that twisted essence of yours?_

A gnarled tree perhaps? I could put flowers on it to show how even though Kira is warped, people still consider him a beautiful being… _No. That's too simple_. Tons of people were going to think of that. A shattered mirror? Murky water? A thorn covered rose? _Ugh… There's too many options! _

I scribbled aimlessly in my sketchbook, resting my head lightly in the palm of my hand. Professor Sato paused in her usual classroom rounds to glance over my shoulder.

"You seem entirely unmotivated today, Masami-san."

I sighed, dropping my pencil onto the desk and looking over the mass of messy swirls and doodles that it had thrown up onto the paper.

"There's just too many things that I can use to represent Kira. I'm having trouble deciding on which to use."

"Ah…" she hummed, looking thoughtful. "Well, you're _obviously_ not interpreting this project the right way."

"_Excuse me_?" I frowned, holding back the venomous snap in my voice. Art was the one thing I believed that I was _truly _good at. Esteemed professor offering an opinion or not, criticism was _not_ something I took well to.

She pulled up one of the spare chairs and sat down, ignoring my bitter tone.

"How do you see Kira, Masami-san?"

I shrugged and she arched a neatly sculpted eyebrow.

"Well?"

"I see Kira… as exactly what he or she is… not who…" I answered slowly.

"And what would that be, Masami-san?"

"Kira… well…" I paused, biting my lip in thought. "Kira is a being who - no matter if a person is supporting him or against him - is an entity people cling to."

"Oh? Would you elaborate?"

"As a group of people, we hate him. We love him. We adore him. We abhor him… Either way, the world is searching for him… searching for justice, I guess. I don't support Kira's actions, nor do I condemn them…" The rusty cogs in my head began to move - ideas popped up into the back of my mind. "I'm kind of… at a midway point."

"I see…" Professor Sato smiled. "Do you understand the assignment now? There can't be a set thing out there - a specific object - to represent your beliefs. You have to show it on your own in the only way your mind will allow you to. You have to think '_this is it_.'"

"Yes… Thank you, sensei."

"Alright. If you have any questions, feel free to set aside your ego and talk to me."

My eyes narrowed darkly.

"Right."

She stood, patted my shoulder once, and headed over to the other end of the room to talk with another student. I glared at her silently for a moment before turning my gaze to back to my sketchpad. I glowered sourly at the scribbles and ripped out the page, crumpling it into a tiny ball. So what if I had a big ego? It wasn't like I went around shoving my work or successes in other people's faces. I was a top student at one of Japan's - if not the world's - best art schools. So what if I wasn't the exactly the smartest in the academic sense? When it came to art, I was fine. _Better_ than fine. I had every skill that I needed to exceed in that field. I had every right to take pride in myself…

…Right?

I dug the sharp tip of my pencil into a fresh sheet of paper and began to sketch dark, angry lines.

A dark robe appeared on the previously blank surface. I added structure and depth to it, giving my blob-like clothing an incapacitated shape. Next, I drew skeletal hands protruding from beneath the cloak, stray bits of decaying flesh curling up and off the bone. The hands were tense, stiff, and looked almost like the skeleton wanted to lash out at the world. I moved up to where my Kira's face should be and paused. After a moment of consideration, I skipped over it - leaving the detail brainstorming for another day. Right now, I just needed to get the basics down so I could move onto a canvas while I still had my rage inspired muse.

I erased the edge of the wide, jagged, cloak, making it smooth, tight, and restrictive. I added rough sketches of people to the bottom, each clawing desperately at my robed reaper's legs. A few notes were jotted on the corner of the paper, brief reminders to add certain facial expressions and body language to specific people. I added a few color labels to the humans, drawing a faint line between those who supported Kira and those who hunted him. I would have to remember to blend whatever background colors I chose right at that point.

My gaze focused on the blank spot in between the two groups of people and I nibbled lightly at my pencil's eraser in thought. Hesitantly, I sketched in another person. This one was a female, younger and less warped than the others. She wasn't reaching up to grasp onto the robes… just sort of awkwardly standing in place with her hands at her sides and eyes downcast. I added details - messy, somewhat-light hair and too-large, bleary, grey eyes. I hesitated, staring down at my medium point with a frown. My eraser flew over the light sketch, demolishing it.

It had looked far too much like the reflection I'd seen in the mirror that morning.

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The final bell of the day rang and I sighed, closing my Art History textbook with a resounding 'thud.' I picked through my notebook and pulled out the rubric for the project I'd started earlier in Professor Sato's class. I glanced through the list of requirements as I packed my binders and notebooks away into my messenger bag.

My eyes narrowed at the fourth bullet point.

'_Use influence from the real world - Incorporate places in the city or from photographs you find online into your project (cite your sources). Hand in this/these photo(s) as part of your final project. Minimum Requirement: One photograph.'_

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. Seeing how my rough draft was going, the only place I could possibly incorporate a photograph would be as the background… unless I used real people's faces in place of the unrecognizable profiles currently worn by the sketches. No. That most likely wouldn't count. I'd just have to use the back drop idea, which seemed like it would work out pretty nicely; however, getting a picture that fit exactly to the criteria I wanted would be difficult. That cut out the option of surfing online for a photo. It would be better and more simple if I just took one myself.

I folded the rubric and slipped it into my bag, walking out of the classroom.

What would be a good background image for my reaper? It had to be a commonly known place that was stereotyped to be cold, frightening, and unnerving; though in the daylight, would look fairly harmless… I smirked when an idea popped into my head.

What could be better than a deserted, Tokyo alleyway?

If I took a shot of the road, I could imply that it symbolized the path to Hell. I could also incorporate the vandalized walls, cracked brick, and dark corners. What a perfect place for a reaper to spend its days.

I pulled out my cell phone, checking the time. The bright letters and numbers blinked back at me - _January 26__th__, 3:15 PM_. There was still an hour or two before it started to get dark. I had plenty of time.

For a moment, I considered calling Shinju and telling her that I would be snooping through alleyways incase I _did _run into someone unpleasant, but I thought better of it and closed my phone, tucking it away safely into my pocket. There was no need to send my already overly concerned and hyper-paranoid roommate into a panic attack. Besides, not even the dumbest attacker would blatantly assault someone while the sun was shining brightly and police officers were stationed off of every corner… and if someone _was_ that stupid, they shouldn't be that hard to incapacitate.

I strode through the doors of the main entrance and into Ueno Park. I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the sunlight, unconsciously pulling my jacket tighter around myself to help shake off some of January's unpleasant chills. My fingers traced over the rectangular outline of the phone in my pocket and I frowned, shaking my head.

Nothing could possibly go wrong.

_Kira will protect me._

I let out a mandatory (rather loud) snort, ignoring the curious glances of a few fellow classmates, and commenced my walk to the nearest alley. I was starting to think like Shinju… not necessarily a good thing. I pulled my hands back from my cell phone, choosing instead to stuff them into the cozy, fluffy, pockets of my jacket.

Nothing would happen. I didn't _need _protecting… and I certainly didn't need Kira to be the one to do it.

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Kiyomi Takada stepped out of the limousine with a blinding, lipstick coated, smile. Camera's flashed. Fans cheered. She waved charmingly back at them, dark brown eyes sparkling at the attention. Even if she _hadn't_ been hand picked by Kira himself to be his spokesperson, she would love her job all the same.

A faded red car raced forward, skidding jerkily to a halt directly adjacent to the black limousine. A red haired teen adorning a pair of chunky goggles and pinching a cigarette between his lips casually held his arm out the window, firing off a smoke gun into the crowd.

The chaos was instantaneous.

Spectators screeched in terror. Body guards surged forward. Takada's eyes narrowed and, with a harsh cough, she covered her mouth, using the sleeve of her fur coat as a buffer between the thick smoke and her lunges.

"_It's a rebel! Protect Lady Takada!"_

She felt a firm, reassuring, hand placed on her shoulder.

"Are you okay ma'am?"

Takada glanced up at the familiar outline of her pale haired bodyguard through narrowed eyes. She nodded.

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Good. I need to get you inside - "

"_No!_ You've just been attacked! It's too dangerous for you to stay around or inside the NHN."

Halle Lidner looked up in shock at the familiar voice. A leather clad motorcyclist stared back at her. He angled his head lightly and the female SPK member was able to catch a fleeting glance of the teen's scarred face and messy blonde bangs behind the helmet's tinted glass face-shield.

_Mello._

"This best thing to do at the moment is to get her away from this place! Please, Miss Takada, get on."

Halle glanced back and forth between Mello and Takada, hesitant. The blonde's eyes narrowed.

"Hurry!"

With one final cautious look sent Mello's way, Halle gently led the news anchor to the motorcycle, helping her onto the plush, leather seat.

"It's okay. Please get on the motorbike and escape as quickly as you can."

Takada nodded, securing her arms around the cyclist's waist as the bike sped forward and down the street. Halle turned back to face the building, untrustworthy sneer twisting her lips. She spoke tersely into her electronic headpiece.

"A-Team, B-Team - I want you to protect Lady Takada with your cars. Follow the motorcycle and retrieve her. The rest of you go after the car that just escaped."

Four sleek, black cars pulled along side the speeding motorcycle.

"Okay. She's safe now. Get Lady Takada into car seven - "

The cyclist revved the bike's engine and turned sharply into an alleyway. The guards swore and swiveled around to follow him. The first car screeched to a halt, caught between the tight, brick, walls.

"Damn it! The alleyway is too narrow!"

"H-He's kidnapping Lady Takada!"

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_Click_

I stared over the picture displayed on the small screen with a critical eye. I could always adjust brightness, contrast, and coloring later on, but any blur - any hint of a shaky hand - would be there forever. A picture not in pristine condition would be of absolutely no help when it came to adding tiny details to the final draft.

I zoomed in, glaring at the blurry outline of the bricks. _Delete_.

I held the camera back up to eye level, carefully focusing the frame on where I needed it to be.

_Click. _

The picture shone up at me from the LED screen. I magnified different areas, making sure that all the corners of objects were crisp and all cracks and imperfections easily detectable. With a nod, I gave my mediocre photography skills the stamp of approval and hit the power button on my camera. I slipped the rectangular device into my bag and began the short trek out of the alleyway.

So far, this project was going smoothly. I'd completed most of the rough draft and now had all of the pictures I needed to go with it. Fairly decent progress for the first day. Being ahead _now_ meant I would have more time to paint _later_, which was always a plus when it came to -

A motorcycle flew around the corner of the alleyway, smashing through piles of stray boxes and hurtling in my direction. I screamed in shock and the driver swerved to avoid me. The wheels of the bike skidded across the damp ground with an almost metallic screech. The cyclist hit the throttle hard, trying to shoot off in the opposite direction. The woman on the back of the bike shrieked at the top of her lounges, short back hair whipping wildly around her face. The motorbike seemed to comply with its driver's wishes for a fraction of a second before spinning out of control on the slippery cement and colliding solidly against the wall with a sickening 'crunch.'

…It took a full twenty seconds for my mind to process the blood dripping to the ground and the warped metal frame of the totaled bike. It took another good ten seconds to make my shaky legs move in the direction of the street… and yet another ten seconds for my mouth to properly form the words 'someone just crashed into a wall' to the black-clad men sprinting down the alleyway.

"_Someone call an ambulance!"_

"_We need help! Now!"_

I leaned shakily up against the alley's grimy brick wall.

My eyes blinked rapidly as I tried to compose myself and clear my misty vision. The deathly pale face of the woman frozen in an expression of absolute horror flashed through my mind and my knees shook, bile rising in the back of my throat. _What were the odds? What was the chance that I'd be standing _right there _when they came swerving down the alleyway? _I swallowed heavily, sliding down against the wall.

"_Lady Takada's not breathing!"_

"_Where are the Goddamned medics?"_

"_I can't get a pulse from either of them!"_

More cursing followed.

I looked up to see a small group of medics rush down the alley, pushing two, large, white stretchers with them. They disappeared around the corner. Another moment later they were rushing back, both stretchers occupied. I screwed my eyes shut, refusing to watch them pass.

I had always thought I'd had a strong stomach - that no amount of gore could ever even hope to bother me. I'd always assumed a situation like this could never get under my skin - that I'd be the hero running around with the paramedics and telling the victim that he or she would be fine. It would be just like one of those manga I'd read when I was younger. After the drama was over, I'd be the new town heroin, proudly recounting how bravely I'd dealt with the situation.

No.

This was absolutely nothing like that.

The mental image of the two of them slowly being painted in their own blood… the woman's face frozen forever in that quintessential picture of utter terror…

A hand was placed on my shoulder and I winced, eyes shooting open. One of the paramedics smiled kindly down at me, helping me to my feet.

"We're going to have to take you to the hospital so that we can make sure you weren't injured."

"I-I'm fine."

The man sent me a rather skeptical look.

"I see… Either way, it's standard procedure, ma'am. Besides, the police have a few questions for you about exactly what happened." He paused, sending my a meaningful look. "You can come down the hospital to be checked out, or you'll be taken to a stuffy interrogation room. Which would you prefer?"

I stayed silent but let him lead me to a smaller ambulance - different from the one the woman and man on the motorbike were being driven in, I was sure.

Before I could step inside the vehicle, however, a swarm of people materialized seemingly out of nowhere. Cameras flashed blindingly and loud, rapid, questions were fired every which way. I stared at the mob in horror, eyes flitting over the dozens upon dozens of faces.

"_Did you see the face of Lady Takada's kidnapper?"_

"_Why were you in the alley?"_

"_Was the crash an accident or did the man appear to do it on purpose to commit suicide?"_

"_Did you know the kidnapper?"_

"_What were your views on Lady Takada?"_

"_Did you actually see the crash occur or did you just hear it?"_

My mind reeled and the medic gently began to push through the crowd, saying that I needed to be taken to the hospital and that they needed to move. My legs swayed awkwardly when I took a step forward and the world seemed to tilt at an awkward angle. The faces began to blur together and I blinked rapidly, feeling as if my head was stuffed with cotton. My tongue and lips felt numb.

Now, I've never passed out before in my life. It seemed like such an overdramatic, 'damsel in distress,' thing to do. Of course, it's not all that much of a person's choice to or not to lose conscious, but that was how I'd seen it. It had always seemed pretty pathetic and I'd always hoped never to be one of the unfortunate souls who'd pass out in stressful situations…

However, as the edges of my vision swarmed with black and I fell forward - dead to the world - I couldn't be more thankful.

**T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T**

**With Takada gone before Light and Mikami have the chance to kill her and thus screw up Kira's lovely 'note book switch' plan, things should change quite a bit, hmm? No more mistake in Light's plan for Near to use to his advantage… Poor, **_**poor, **_**SPK and Task Force. **

**Fun little factoid, for everyone. After I came up with Masami's name, I began to realize that her surname - Yamashita - sounded awfully familiar. I googled it and, tada! It was the name Matsuda used as an alias during the whole Yotsuba arc. **

**Also, have I mentioned that I love quotes? Yes. I adore them. Hence, from now on, I'll be putting a quote from **_**Death Note **_**at the beginning of each chapter. I don't ever plan on explaining **_**why**_** I choose certain quotes for certain parts (too much work :P), but know that they all correspond **_**somehow **_**(even if it's in a very teensy tiny way). **

…

**Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this little preview of my first attempt at writing a **_**Death Note **_**Fanfiction. Once I start updating this (when Fee Fye Foe Fum is or is near completed), I'm going to update every **_**other**_** Saturday rather than every week like I attempted for 'Fee Fye Foe Fum' because of my extremely heavy workload this year. Not too bad, right? I just don't want to overload myself and make promises about updating on time that I can't keep. I'll **_**try**_** and sneak in a few 'one a week' chapters, but again, I make no definite promises. **

**So, until then~**


	2. Meeting

**I know I said I'd update 'Fee Fye Foe Fum' first… but, again, this has been sitting around on my laptop for weeks so I just posted it. The end~ And I'm still working on 'Fee'… I just have major writer's block and piles of summer work, so it's very taxing. **

**I'm glad that everyone who read the last chapter liked it. This has been a work in progress for quite some time now, and I'm actually really, really, happy with how it's turned out so far. After working on writing a Fanfiction as long as 'Fee Fye Foe Fum**_**,**_**' I kind of thought my brain would be idea dead. *laughs* However, this story (to me at least) has almost an entirely different feel to it. For one thing, it's a different fandom. There's a whole new set of characters and - though it doesn't involve demons, selling souls, or living in Hell - it's darker than the fairly lighthearted 'Fee Fye Foe Fum' (but that's Death Note, for you) and I love writing in this style :)**

**Onward!**

**T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T**

"_Certainly I lie every now and then; but surely no one can be truthful throughout their entire life. People aren't that perfect. Everyone lies. But even so, I make a point of not telling lies that will hurt others. That is my answer."_

"_I thought you'd say that."_

_- Light Yagami / L Lawliet_

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I nervously squirmed in my seat, twisting the edge of my sleeve between my clammy fingers.

The doctor who had checked me over for injuries and any traumas had been kind. He hadn't pried into my reasons for being carted into the building with a mob of reporters on my heels or why I'd passed out in the paramedics arms. Instead, he'd kindly inquired about my college life - my majors, my favorite classes… He'd made idle chat about the weather and recent sports games. It was very calming.

Somehow, from the way that the nurses seemed to cower in fear whenever he asked them to perform even the simplest tasks, I didn't think other patients (or people in general) exchanged such pleasantries with him. I guess the surname sprawled in black ink across my insurance card had done a nice job of replacing the bitter clouds in his mind with sunshine and rainbows.

I could hear muffled voices directly outside and I glanced over at the opposite end of the room.

Now, that same doctor was arguing vehemently with a group of men standing outside the door.

"_Yamashita-san was put under so much stress that she passed out. She's not ready to recount what happened."_

"_That stress was most likely caused by the mass of reporters swarming her," _a fairly suave voice shot back, eerily calm and composed. _"We just need to ask her a few questions about the incident. It's of utmost importance to our case."_

"_Absolutely not. She's my patient and until I deem her stable enough to talk with you, an interrogation is absolutely out of the question."_

I froze, fingers clenching around the fabric of my shirt. _An interrogation_? The paramedic had told me that the police would have questions… but an _interrogation_? What was I? Some kind of suspect in a huge, convoluted, motorcycle-scheme-gone-wrong? My fists tightened.

No. That was stupid. I had to think rationally. In all likelihood, I'd just witnessed the deaths of two people. Of course the police would need to interrogate me.

"_We won't force her to tell us anything she isn't ready for, but I have to insist we talk with her while her memories of the accident are the most clear."_

"_No."_

"_Please, sir!" _A new voice piped in - this one lighter, more emotional. _"Lady Takada's death is a huge tragedy, but it's also really, really, important to our case against Kira!"_

I flinched, mind blanking.

_C-Case against… Kira?_

No. That was impossible.

The once highly esteemed Japanese Task Force had supposedly been disbanded… Well, it wasn't _official, _per se… but the Japanese Police Force had shown absolutely no outward interest in catching Kira for over four years now. L had literally vanished off of the face of the Earth. Some people even claimed that Kira had caught the elusive detective. Now _that_ was a ridiculous notion. Wouldn't there have been some kind of public announcement? Wouldn't Kira want to proclaim his or her victory to the world?

I frowned at the door, brow furrowed. There was hushed, angry, whispering now - as if the other men were berating the one who'd spoken out.

_There was still a case against Kira._

I leaned back into the chair's plush pillow with a sigh. _Who would've thought it? _Even the United States of America had ordered the dispersion of its own Anti-Kira group by now. Maybe all of the detectives from America had flown over to Japan and the two groups were working together in secret?

I yawned.

_Whatever._

If the detectives wanted my view of what had happened in order to help their case, I'd give it. If they never came back, I wouldn't particularly mind.

My frame curled itself into a content ball beneath the warm fabric of my jacket. As long as I didn't commit crimes or become involved with criminals (neither of which I particularly planned on doing in the near or distant future), Kira was no concern of mine…

…

The art project didn't count.

There was a light knock on the door and my doctor walked back inside, tranquil countenance carefully constructed, though I could clearly see the rigid, angry, lines between his eyes.

"Yamashita-san, there's a group of detectives here who would like to speak with you about the incident you witnessed. Are you feeling well enough to talk to them?"

The look on his face told me that he was praying I'd say 'but of course not, doctor. I think I just may pass out like a little ol' damsel in distress if I try to think about it at all.' Instead, I nodded awkwardly.

"I'm fine. I'll answer any questions they have..."

"Alright," he replied, a bit sourly. "I'll send them in then… Call if you need anything or the moment you want them to leave."

I nodded, uncurling my legs and sitting up straighter in my seat. The door closed the door for a moment only to reopen it seconds later. Five men walked into my temporary hospital room. My gaze flickered over each of them slowly but paused at the youngest of the group. He looked to be around my age - a bit older, maybe - but held himself with more confidence and poise than all of the others surrounding him combined.

The confident one moved to sit in the chair across from mine and the others followed suit - scattering themselves idly around the room in any available seat.

"Yamashita-san, I'm sorry you had to undergo such a terrible ordeal," he began - honey tinted eyes flashing up to meet my own murky ones. A comfortable, sympathetic smile spread across his lips. "It's a horrendous experience to watch a person die in front of you."

_High-pitched wails. Bloodied faces. Warped metal._

I picked at a loose thread on my sleeve.

"Sure..."

"Ah, forgive me. I forgot to introduce myself," he laughed lightly, rubbing at the back of his head almost sheepishly. My eyes narrowed slightly. _Strange. He hadn't seemed the type of person to be bashful or forgetful from how he'd walked into the room. _He smiled, flashing a set of perfectly straight, perfectly white, teeth. "My name is Yagami, Light. I'm currently heading the Japanese Task Force and Kira Investigation." He gestured around the room. "These are my associates."

I blinked owlishly.

_Wait… wasn't L heading the search for Kira? Or… something…? There was absolutely, positively, no way this guy was L. He couldn't have been older than twenty five._

I nodded slowly in acknowledgement.

"My name is Yamashita, Masami… though I'm sure the doctor must have told you."

"He did."

"Ah…" I trailed of awkwardly, fidgeting in my seat.

Yagami sat back, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers in his lap. He looked nothing short of the part of a young, lady-killer, detective in one of the daytime crime dramas my sister adored. Casually, he withdrew a notepad and ballpoint pen from his pocket. The faint 'click' of the writing utensil seemed to resonate through the silence of the room.

"So, Yamashita-san, do you think you would be able to answer a few of our questions?"

I nodded, leaning back further in my chair and crossing my arms lightly over my chest.

"So… what do you need to know?"

"I was wondering if you could tell us what happened." The tip of his pen tapped the paper lightly.

"Of course…"

His honey tinted eyes flashed up to meet my own dark ones and I felt my cheeks heat. I'd been staring. And he _caught_ me staring. That was never pleasant. A slight smirk spread across his lips and I wrung my hands together.

"I-I was in the alleyway when a motorbike with two people came rushing around the corner. The person driving swerved to avoid hitting me and crashed into the wall. I couldn't see the face of the person sitting in front because he was wearing a helmet, but there was a woman with short, black hair behind him. She wasn't wearing a helmet and she seemed a bit too dressed up to be riding on a motorcycle…"

I paused as a few of the men exchanged looks.

"Before, I heard you all talking outside about someone named Lady Takada… and the reporters from earlier mentioned that name too…" I bit my lip. "The woman on the bike… was that Kiyomi, Takada from NHN?"

Yagami nodded.

"Yes."

"Oh…" _I'm so screwed. _All those rabid Kira worshipers would hunt me down like blood hounds and hang my sorry ass from a tree -

"You don't have to worry," he smiled. "The police are more than willing to place you in protective custody or at the very least have someone follow you to ensure your safety."

Was this guy a _mind reader?_

"Ah…That's nice of them…" I mumbled.

Yagami laughed at that. It was a very pretty sound - very clear and very sweet… Of course, I'd rather shoot myself in the head then voice said opinion out loud, but still… It was a free country. I was allowed to think whatever my mind wished.

"Yamashita-san… Uhm… can I ask you something?"

My ears perked up and I glanced over at the detective who'd spoken up - this one had mused black hair and looked to be younger than the others around him, though not quite as young as mister let's-just-smile-dashingly-at-every-word-out-of-a-poor-girl's-mouth seated in front of me.

"Sure. What would you like to know, mister…?" I let the sentence hang, a silent question.

"Matsuda, Touta."

"Alright, then, Matsuda-san. Ask away."

"Why were you in the alley in the first place?" he questioned curiously.

"I was… taking pictures."

"Of an alley?" he frowned, looking astonished. I squeezed my hands together more tightly and flushed in embarrassment. _Great. Now they thought I had mental issues. _

"They were of the wall in particular, if you must know."

"But, why?"

"For an art project," I elaborated, "on Kira."

The men in the room seemed to perk up at this.

"Kira?" Yagami repeated.

I nodded hesitantly, twisting the fabric of my shirt between my fingers.

"My sensei wanted the class to create paintings focusing around a controversial, highly discussed, issue of this day and age. She just happened to assign Kira as the topic."

"_That's ridiculous!" _One of the older detectives hissed to another. _"Are people really accepting Kira that much to make him into a _college assignment_?"_

I held my tongue, knowing they would like the answer as much as I enjoyed receiving my professor's criticism.

"Which college do you attend?"

I blinked slowly, eyes focusing back on Yagami. The question seemed a bit irrelevant to the conversation… to my _interrogation_. Perhaps he was just trying to make small talk?

"Geidai."

He smiled pleasantly, openly. It was a nice smile.

"I'm surprised your parents supported your decision to attend an art school."

My eyes narrowed icily.

_Maybe not so nice after all._

"Oh, _really_. Can't say you're the first to be so _shocked_."

Perhaps there was bit too much venom in my voice. Too much spiteful sarcasm. I suppose I could have been a bit… _politer_, but I'd heard that very same statement more times than I cared to count. Though it was always asked casually, almost consolingly… it always stung. It was like they were saying, "You are _an idiot_. Who in their right mind would give up a guaranteed career in a multimillion dollar company to become _a lowly artist_? And your parents _supported_ that?"

Yagami looked absolutely taken aback, as if he wasn't used to women snapping at him.

I let out a heavy sigh, leveling my head_. It was a stupid question… Nothing more. Relax. No need to get so damn hyped up. _

"My older sister is the one following the 'white collar' life. She'll be taking over the company when my father retires." I closed my eyes, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms lazily across my chest. "Unlike her, I never cared for business. My parents knew that." My eyes opened and I locked gazes with Mister Thousand-Watt-Smile-And-Perfect-Posture. "And they respected my decision and my passions."

A moment of tense silence.

Another smile cracked his lips. This one looked awkward and forced.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you, Yamashita-san."

He didn't _look_ sorry. If anything, the smoldering embers that were his eyes were radiating _fury_. It was almost as if he was thinking 'how _dare _she growl at _me_.'

"It's fine. I'm sure you can understand how _repetitive_ that question has become to me over the years, hmm?"

His grin looked a tad more natural now.

"Certainly."

Another few seconds of quiet.

"So may I ask why you decided to attend art school?"

The inquiry was innocent enough… but the teensy, tiny, smirk twisting his lips was not. He was _goading_ me, trying to send me through the roof again for barking at him. That _jack ass_.

I peered back at him with narrowed eyes.

"I like art."

"Is that all? No inkling of rebellion against your parents -"

"Isn't that a tad _personal_, Yagami-san?"

"I'm simply trying to grasp onto your character," he laughed lightly. The friendly gesture didn't reach his eyes, not at all. "It may make it easier to piece together some information."

"What _information_?" I snapped. "I've told you everything."

I was going to rip that damned smile right off of his perfect, little, face.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you."

"_Again_?"

"Excuse me?"

I shook my head.

"I think I've answered all the questions you would need to ask me," my eyes flickered purposely to the door and I raised my voice a bit, "and I'm feeling kind of worn out. I think I should rest."

Not three seconds after the words had passed through my lips, the doctor was back in my room and herding the five inspectors back into the hallway.

"It was pleasant meeting you, Miss Yamashita. It's disappointing that it wasn't exactly under the most ideal circumstances," Yagami smiled politely, nodding his head.

"Yes… _disappointing_," I parroted, mind still bubbling over in rage.

The door closed softly behind them. They stood outside it for a moment and I could somewhat make out the sound of papers rustling and being handed around. There was the click of a few pens and then silence. _They must have been filling out paperwork for the hospital._

"_Man… she did_ not _like you, Light."_

Matsuda's voice, maybe?

I perked up, ears strained as I eavesdropped. There was a brief moment of quiet. Another click of a pen.

"_I suppose not. I may have pushed her a bit too far on a sensitive topic. That, and there's the fact that she just underwent an ordeal that could be fairly emotionally traumatizing. Yamashita-san simply could have been using me to vent…" _A pause. "_Will you hand me that paper, Aizawa?"_

"_Sure."_

More silence.

Another click. More shuffling. Another transition of papers.

"_Then again," _his voice sounded louder now, more directed,_ "I suppose she could just have a nasty personality."_

That little bastard. I would put him in my painting - a mass of bloody body parts and rags viciously torn apart by Kira himself.

"_I think that's everything, doctor."_

"_Thank you, Yagami-san. I wish you and your team the best of luck."_

I yawned loudly and stretched. Casually, I glanced out the window. It was dark. The lights of the city shown brightly outside. It was late. Late enough that I would feel uncomfortable walking home in the dark alone. I felt around in my pocket for my wallet. Maybe I could get a taxi…

Another yawn cracked my lips and I rubbed sleepily at my eyes.

_Today has been one royally fucked up day. _

T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T

Shinju's reaction when I returned to the apartment was almost enough to make me wish I'd played up my non-existent physical injuries and bunkered down in the hospital for the night.

…that 'almost' was slowly turning into a scathing 'what the Hell was I thinking coming home?'

Shinju is that female who, when she first places her feet on the floor in the morning, makes the devil think, 'oh shit, she's awake.' Never before in my life have I met someone so energetic, peppy, sweet, and sadistically evil all at the same time. My flamboyant roommate is studying to be an architect. I'll admit, the girl has more talent than most professionals in the field combined and I'd originally rejoiced that I'd be rooming with someone with her reputation; however, Shinju's obnoxious personality, estrogen fueled fits, and emotional instability had easily overshadowed her brilliant ability to design.

I'd attempted to get out of the rooming arrangement at first, but my parents had asked that I remain cordial. Shinju's father owned a successful law firm with a reputation for supporting big business and if "the two of us young'ns could get along," (quothe my mother) relations between my family's company and her family's group of blood sucking lawyers could improve.

Shinju could have been a great lawyer, what with her devious personality and lack of consideration for human life.

However, on top of her numerous shortcomings and layers upon layers of wickedness, Shinju was also an avid Kira supporter.

Which was why I really shouldn't have been all too shocked when the first words that flew from her mouth the moment I stepped into our shared apartment flat were 'HOW COULD YOU KILL LADY TAKADA?'

I sighed and ran a hand through my mused and fairly dirty hair, absentmindedly noticing that I really could use a hot shower at the moment. I adjusted my awkward position on the couch and frowned up at her.

"I already told you over the phone exactly what happened."

"Well now I can yell at you to your face rather than have you just hang up on me or throw your phone in your bag!"

Another irritated breath flew past my lips and I tilted my head back, looking up at the ceiling.

"Can't I just go take a shower and go to bed?"

"Stop trying to avoid the subject!" she snapped, angrily stomping her foot against the carpet.

"I'm not trying to avoid it," I shot back. "I explained exactly what happened."

"WHY THE HELL WERE YOU EVEN IN AN ALLEY?"

"I was taking pictures for my next assignment. Relax, would you?"

"How can I _relax_?" she fumed, throwing her hands into the air as she stormed around the apartment. "For all you know, you've just put yourself on Kira's blacklist!"

I snorted.

"Oh, _please_. How could Kira _possibly_ know that I was the one in the alleyway? And besides, it's not like it was my fault."

"Kira knows _all_," she murmured darkly. "…besides, it's all over the news."

"You _really_ need to lay off the documentaries and fan sites. Seriously. They're affecting your mental health, and - wait, what? The news?"

Shinju nodded, walking over to the coffee table and plucking the TV remote from atop its smooth surface. With the push of a button, the television hummed to life and the screen filled with the image of a city in panic. Slowly, to make a point, she began to scroll through the various channels. Each was flashing the same or very similar headline.

_KIRA SPOKESPERSON AND BELOVED NEWS ANCHOR KIYOMI TAKADA KILLED IN FREAK MOTORCYCLE ACCIDENT!_

_KIRA SUPPORTERS ENRAGED!_

I watched with narrowed eyes as a scratchy video of the medic from before, carting my unconscious butt into an ambulance, popped up on the screen.

"Oh. _That's_ flattering."

"Shh." She held up a finger to her lips, using her other hand to jab pointedly at the screen. A classy looking woman with long, straight, brown hair and large eyes spoke into the camera, microphone held to her lipstick-red lips as she gestured to the scene playing out around her.

"_As of now, not much is known about the accident. The only witness of the crash, seen in the previous video clip, was taken to the hospital immediately after the incident. She was later identified as Yamashita, Masami and was reportedly seen being interviewed by the police while at the hospital -"_

Shinju lowered the volume, letting out a low whistle.

"Wow. They've already got your I.D. The media works wicked fast, doesn't it?"

I groaned, rubbing at my temples.

"Great. Lovely. Spectacular."

Shinju picked up her phone, opening an internet browser as she typed away at the tiny keypad.

"What do you know? It's all over the web, too." She shoved the tiny electrical trinket in my face. "See? There's already, like, five blogs opened up -"

"Kill me now."

My coat pocket buzzed for a moment before the all too familiar first measure of Symphony No. 5 flooded the room through the tiny speakers of my cell phone. It was a warning as much as it was a ring tone.

"I may not have to."

"_Damn her and her internet addiction,_"I sighed, heaving myself off the couch. I jammed my hand into my pocket as I trudged down the hall, retrieving my phone from its fuzzy depths. Cautiously, I peered down at the caller I.D. flashing up at me from the screen. I jammed my finger down on the 'ignore' button. She would call back soon enough. "How did she find out so quickly?"

"I may have sent out a _teensy_ little text -"

"You have been disowned."

The Symphony started to blare yet again and I groaned, running a hand through my hair.

"If you need me, I'll be in my room having my ear chewed to bits."

"I don't blame your sister for being an insufferable nag," Shinju called after me, plopping down into the space I had just vacated. I paused, hand resting on the door knob and phone raised to my ear. My finger hovered over the glowing, green, 'accept call' button.

Shinju smirked at me before turning back to the TV.

"_Someone _has to be the guardian angel of your irresponsible ass."

The door slammed shut with an echoing 'BANG.'

**T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T**

**So Masami dear has met our resident evil and gorgeous genius, Light Yagami… and they didn't **_**quite**_** hit it off. Who can blame her? If I met Light in real life, I'd probably tear him a new one. He can be such an insufferable ass hole. **

**Anywho, I hope everyone enjoyed it and I'm still straining to finish chapter seventy-two of 'Fee Fye Foe Fum.' **

**Until next time~**

…**whenever that may be…**


	3. Victory

**So… **

**Very short compared to my usual updates, I know. I just thought that Light's little victory deserved its own chapter. Plus, I'm so incredibly scrunched for time that this is the most I'll be able to get out for a while. **

**I also didn't want to drag it out too much just to make it longer, seeing as I'm pretty sure everyone reading this **_**knows **_**what happened at the end of the series and thus didn't need a complete and total re-write of the entire scene. **

**I have no idea when I'll be able to update again (hopefully kind of soonish…) because the work load is only going to get way worse from here.**

**ashadeyfigure : Yes to the annoying of Light! …no to the appearance of L. He's dead TT-TT**

**T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T**

"_Exactly as planned."_

_- Light Yagami_

T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T

_January 28__th__, 2010_

Yagami, Light stared placidly at the group of five people at the opposite end of the warehouse. Other than Mogi, the other four faces were completely unrecognizable - No. He recognized the female from a brief program on the television about Takada's personal body guards. But that was it. …Not that it mattered. He didn't _need_ to know who they were, what they did, or what they were like. They would all be dead in a few minutes.

His honey tinted eyes narrowed as Aizawa and the others standing behind him began to throw terror-fueled fits - going on and on about how Near was insane for putting them all at risk when X-Kira arrived.

"All of you - relax," the albino frowned. "Even if our names are written down, we won't die. And Kira's identity will finally be revealed."

Aizawa paled, sweat dribbling down the side of his face.

"H-How can you be so sure that we won't die, Near?"

"Simple. I tampered with the notebook," Near explained. Light twitched. "We managed to get it into our possession and replaced the pages. The person behind that door…" he pointed to the rectangular, metal barrier, "the one in charge of the actual killing, has been filling up one page in the notebook every day. I just calculated which page would correspond with today's date and replaced all the subsequent pages."

"R-Replaced?" Matsuda spluttered.

"You got a hold of it? You actually did that?" Aizawa gawked.

"The person writing the names down outside will eventually look in here to see if we've all died. At this point, we'll seize him and the notebook. The individual whose name is not written down in the notebook," his round, dark, eyes flickered over to Light, "will inevitably be Kira."

"That… That makes sense…" the elder detective murmured, perspiration still tricking down his cheeks.

Light's lips twisted upward into a barely noticeable smirk.

_Exactly as planned. _

He'd known. He'd known all along. It was obvious the Near would attempt to tamper with the death note. The successor's pride was his ultimate downfall - his need to recover solid evidence rather than simply ending the Kira case then and there by eliminating the two Kira's.

Near had known that Light Yagami would never _confess _to being Kira. The only way then to have sufficient evidence would be to have the detectives' names written down in the notebook and Kira's not. But to do that, one must create a situation in which death can be avoided even after having your name written in the notebook. And, yes - the only way that the task could be properly performed was by replacing the pages in the notebook. Near had done that part right.

However, the white haired detective's plan had gone useless moments after he decided to enact it. The plan's one flaw : Near never bothered to stop and think if the very same idea had popped up in Light's devious mind.

Near had replaced the pages in _a_ notebook, but not _the _notebook. _The_ notebook was currently in the hands of Mikami, Teru… and in all likelihood, being written in at that very moment.

Light had ordered Mikami to create a duplicate death note - a fake. That fake was the notebook Near was referring too. The real one had sat undisturbed in a secure vault - completely intact - until this day. There were no reasons for Mikami to have slipped, to run to retrieve the real death note. Nothing had gone wrong.

The image of Near sitting before him dawning a mask of L flashed through Light's mind.

_Near. You had the chance to win, or in the very least postpone your defeat. _His eyes narrowed behind his bangs. _You are soft. You are far below L._

If it had been L that Light was still fighting against, the detective would have considered the possibility of Kira creating a fake notebook. He would have tested it. Near had that opportunity. All the albino would have had to do was write one measly name in the death note before removing the pages. If he had done that, he would have discovered that the notebook was really a forgery. He could have mustered up another plan. _One person's life_. It could have been a wicked person - a criminal. Near could have sacrificed a life or two to test it.

Light was disappointed in him.

_You tried to win too eloquently_… His lips twisted upward a fraction more. _Oh, well. Because of you, everyone here is going to die, and I, _Kira, _will have my perfect victory. _

Light's smirk vanished and he dipped his head slightly, taking a moment to regain his cool and collected composure.

He lifted his head, face a mask of indifference.

"To the one outside… Did you write down all the names in the notebook?"

There was a short moment of tense silence.

"_Yes, I did_," came the muffled reply.

Light fought the gigantic grin that was attempting to crack his lips.

_No… Not yet. I can't laugh yet. I have to hold it in… B-But…_ His eyes widened in manic glee. _Near seriously believes that no one will die. That _he'll_ win. _

It was beyond amusing and ridiculously funny. But no. He couldn't make any move yet. He couldn't give off anything, do anything, that could possibly hint to the fact that he was Kira. Not yet. Both the members of the SPK and his own task force were armed. If they knew the truth before the note took effect, there was a possibility he'd be shot.

It took the death note forty seconds to work. He'd announce his victory at the thirty-five second mark.

"That's strange."

Light blinked.

Near raised his head to glare at him from beneath snowy white bangs.

"Why would Mikami reply in earnest 'yes, I did' when you asked him if he wrote the names down?"

Light blinked again. A slight smirk slipped onto his lips.

"Who knows?" the genius shrugged. "Maybe he's just honest… or overly confident." His eyes narrowed a bit, mockingly. "Maybe he's seen through your _brilliant plan_."

Light ignored the frantic reactions from the three men standing behind him with ease.

"Mikami, Teru," Near called out. "Why don't you come in here?"

"Mikami, Teru?" Light repeated, small smile on his mouth. "That's right. Stop hiding and come inside." For a moment, there was no answer.

"Mikami, I know that as of right now you're in charge of carrying out Kira's killings." Near twirled a strand of hair around his finger. "You've already written down our names, so there's nothing to be afraid of. Please, come in. Or did Kira order you not to?"

A few seconds later, the large metal door slid open with an ear splitting screech. Standing in the doorway stood Mikami, Teru in all his glory. His irises shown red with the power of the Shinigami and the notebook was held securely in his hands.

Light, no, _Kira_, smirked.

_Well done, Mikami_.

"How many seconds has it been since you wrote the first name down?"

Mikami looked down at the silver watch on his wrist. He blinked blearily, taking a moment to catch sight of the ever ticking second hand.

"Thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven…"

Light's grin broke through.

"…Thirty-eight, thirty-nine…"

"_I win, Near._"

"…Forty!"

The stuttered 'th-thump' seemed to resonate throughout the silent warehouse.

The white haired detective's dark eyes widened in shock. He didn't move to clutch at his chest or anything dramatic like most heart-attack victims did. Light supposed that was why the others were so shocked when Halle Lidner doubled over with a screech. The three men at her side followed not two seconds after - collapsing to the ground with hands clutching onto the fabric of their shirts that lay directly over their hearts.

Light closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, tranquilly, as the last three bodies collapsed lifelessly to the ground behind him. In the end, it had all been very anti-climatic. Then again, he preferred it this way. A smooth victory…

_Exactly as planned. _

"God…?"

Light reopened his eyes and glanced over at his faithful follower.

"You've done well, Mikami."

He stepped carefully around the corpses and walked over to the attorney. He held out his hand for the death note. Mikami handed it to him graciously, head bowed in respect. Light flipped idly through the pages, relishing in the familiar feel of the notebook in his hands. How long had it been since he'd last been able to hold his weapon of choice without being overlooked by the task force, without surveillance cameras in every corner?

Light trailed a finger over the freshly used page. The eight names written across the top of it were concrete proof that he'd succeeded. All of his enemies had been eradicated. L, his successors, the task force, and all other opposition had finally crumbled.

_Kira has won. _

It was over.

He lifted his gaze from the lined paper. Honey tinted irises flickered in Mikami's direction.

_Well… not _completely _over. _

Light stuffed one hand in his pocket, idly searching for the pen he'd hidden inside. He clutched the death note to his chest with the other and walked calmly out the door. Ryuk's shadow followed him, wings moving ever so slightly to keep his hulking form aloft.

The genius turned to see Mikami standing a few feet behind him.

"God, what should we do about the bodies?"

Light's fingers brushed against the pen's smooth surface.

"I have it all taken care of, Mikami. No need to worry."

He moved to the car that he and the other members of the task force had arrived in and opened the door to the driver's side. He sat inside, pretending to search for the keys. Concealed from Mikami's gaze by the high back of the seat, he withdrew the pen from his pocket and flipped open the notebook.

"Wait fifteen minutes before leaving so that we aren't seen together… just to be cautious."

A few more seconds of 'key searching' and Light straightened - death note closed and pen placed snugly back in his pocket.

The car purred to life and Ryuk cackled.

"Man. What does it take to get on your good side? Poor guy. He's in for a fiery awakening… or more like _eternal sleep_, I suppose."

"It was a necessary sacrifice," Light smirked, pressing down a bit harder on the gas pedal. "Besides, I can't have any lose ends, now can I?"

"I suppose not," the death god snickered. "What about Misa then? Going to kill her off too?"

Light shrugged.

"In time. She's whiny and obnoxiously thickheaded, but she still has an eye deal or two left in her. Her devotion is incredibly useful… no matter how annoying." He glanced at the digital clock situated in the center of the dashboard. _1:31_. "Another minute and this will all be over."

"Hey, Light? After this, can we get some apples?" Ryuk asked, hopeful. "Big, red ones? None of that 'granny smith' crap that Misa bought. _How can _anyone_ enjoy sour apples?_"

Light sighed.

"Whatever."

"Have I ever mentioned that you're my favorite human?"

Light glanced back at the clock.

_1:32. _

He smirked. Even from this far down the road, he could feel the gigantic tremor of the explosion and see a bit of orange glow. The Yellow Box Warehouse was no more than a mass of swirling flames and ash. All the evidence, all the dead investigators, left there would be nothing more than black dust. The Kira case was finished.

_Useful to the very end, Mikami. You were a worthy follower. _

A few moments passed in content silence.

"So… about those apples. I think there's a little market down the road - "

T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T

_Mikami, Teru _

_January 28__th__, 2010 at 1:32 pm_

_Suicide_

_Burns to death after setting fire to all of his surroundings. Once the entire building and its contents have been engulfed to the point of being beyond saving, he jumps into the flames himself. Nothing will remain of the scene but ashes. _

**T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T**

**So…**

**I felt kind of bad killing Mikami off (Screw that. I felt bad for killing EVERYONE off. Poor Matsuda TT-TT), but it was something I just **_**knew**_** Light would end up doing if he had won so I had to write it :(**

**Anyway, until next time~**


	4. Aftermath

**Have I mentioned that Light's personality and mindset is a total bitch when it comes to writing? Seriously. **_**Everything**_**, even parts where's he's not even **_**in **_**the damned scene, are modified by how he thinks and what he would want to do. I cannot count how many sections I've had to rewrite or tweak so far because my mind piped in "But, oh! Light would **_**never**_** do that! Kill off that plot bunny before it reproduces!" For example, I had this whole scene typed up where Light/Kira wrote into a news station (like Misa did with Sakura TV) to announce his victory to the world. Then, I realized Light would never do something so outright, risky, and stupid so two whole pages were deleted with the click of a button.**

**Yeah. In short, keeping Im-A-Gay in character is obnoxious, but I'll attempt to do my best with it all the same…**

**Every1235: I'd actually never seen that before until you mentioned it. I was kind of making the ending similar to Takada's death in the way of the whole burning warehouse thing… No intentional similarities. It was really interesting to read. Thanks for telling me about it ^^**

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"_Eating sweets makes you fat."_

_-Misa Amane_

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"_Oh, honey. Are you okay? How have you been? Have you been resting? You better not be going off to school like this. Bed rest and plenty of relaxation is crucial if you want to begin feeling better - "_

"Mom - "

"_Do you need to see Doctor Freeta? Your sister saw her once after her dog died - _Goldie? The pug? Remember her? _- Anyway, she was very good. We'll fly you over to the United States to see her if you need it - "_

"_Mom _- "

"_Oh, sweet heart. We're coming home right away. You hear me? No, no. Stop trying to convince me otherwise. What to do… What to do…I know! We'll put you in protective custody. You'll have at least three body guards and of course the police will be watching you at all times - "_

"MOM!"

"_What is it, darling?"_

I sighed, running a hand through my disheveled hair and adjusting the phone at my ear. I idly crossed and uncrossed my legs underneath the table. This conversation was going on for _far_ longer than I'd thought it would. Sure, the worry was understandable, but this was the third time we'd had this talk in the past twenty-four hours.

My butt was starting to go numb from sitting in the same rickety, old, kitchen chair for so long and my gigantic portion of raspberry-chocolate swirl ice-cream was rapidly decreasing.

Not pleasant.

"I know that you're worried about me, believe me, I was really worried too for a bit… but I'm fine. Really. I don't need body guards or police escorts or God knows what else to protect me against all those rabid Kira supporters. It'll be fine."

"_And you've been resting?"_

"You bet cha'."

"_Really?"_

I scooped another spoonful of ice-cream into my mouth.

"Mmhmm." I swallowed. "Thanks for all the comfort food, by the way." The freezer was now packed to the brim with frozen treats and every counter was littered with boxes upon boxes of unhealthy goodness. "You didn't have to have so much of it delivered though…"

"_Nonsense. I'm sure Shinju needed some sweets almost as much as you did." _

I glared at said obnoxious female who was currently smirking at me from her spot strewn across the couch - mouth stuffed far beyond carrying capacity with two different kinds of cheesecake. A half eaten box of prepackaged brownies sat in her lap and she had a gigantic red velvet cupcake piled high with creamy frosting at the ready for whenever she finally managed to swallow down all of the cake.

"_She's such a huge Kira supporter. She must have been absolutely devastated by Miss Takada's death."_

"…Trust me mom, 'devastated' or not, the last thing that demon needs is sugar."

She sighed.

"_Oh, well. More for you then." _Yeah. Not likely. _"Either way, back to the subject at hand. Your father and I will be back in Japan as soon as possible, alright? Two, three days tops."_

"Mom, you _really_ don't have to - "

"_No, no, no. We're your parents, honey. We should be there for you. And we're taking you to the police station."_

"Mom - "

"_I know, I know. You don't want body guards. Let me at least take you to the police to see if _they _think that you should have someone watching over you."_

"Alright. That's reasonable. Just… no more body guards. _Please_."

My mom laughed.

"_No offense, sweet heart, but that incident _was_ your fault…"_

"You never told me we were getting body guards. Seeing a random stranger walking through the house prompted an immediate reaction!" I defended.

"_Still, throwing paint thinner in his eyes was a bit much."_

"If he had actually been a serial killer, it wouldn't have been a _bit much_."

There was some shuffling on the other end of the line.

"_I have to go now, honey. The airline is calling us back."_

"Okay. Talk to you later."

"_Love you."_

"Love you, too. Bye."

I sighed, pulling the phone away from my ear and pressing the little, red, 'end call' button. My spoon hit the bottom of the now empty ice-cream bowl and I frowned. I needed more sweets! …but the fridge was ever so far away…

"So, was that the same conversation that you've been having for the past three days, or was there anything new tossed in there?" Shinju asked, having finally swallowed the cheesecake. As soon as the words had left her mouth, she began working on devouring her cupcake.

I shrugged.

"The gist of it all was the same."

"Mmhmm," she mumbled through a mouthful of frosting.

A moment passed in silence.

I frowned down at my phone and lazily traced designs on the table with my finger. This whole incident had put a huge sidebar in my life. Because I was on leave from school for my 'fragile mental state,' I had yet to continue my project. Never mind the _project_, I'd missed three whole days worth of classes so far. _And that was just up to this point_. Who knew how long my mom would keep me home? The make-up work pile would be _monstrous_.

That, and…

I sighed, playing with a stray strand of hair that had fallen in front of my eyes.

I may have been _acting_ like I was fine, but even _I_ couldn't lie to myself. Sure, I'd had a few nightmares about seeing the two motorcycle riders crash into the brick wall. Sure, I'd thrown up a few times. And, sure, I was a bit paranoid that some obsessive Kira maniac might hunt me down in my sleep. But the absolute worst part was the endless guilt - the feeling of 'I could have done something' even when you _know _that there was no possible way you could have. It's awful to feel like you didn't do enough to help someone. That guilt was what was bothering me.

Maybe I did need to see Doctor Freeta after all.

"Hey, fat head. Cart your rear-end over to the couch. We're going to watch a good, old American tear jerker. _Titanic _sound good? Subs on, of course. My English still sucks."

I laughed.

"Got enough food over there?"

Shinju looked around with a careful eye… it almost looked like an animal observing her habitat.

"Maybe not enough for two hours…"

"I'll grab some spoons and a couple of containers of ice-cream from the freezer."

"You do that. Make one of them mint, 'kay?"

Minutes later, I was curled up on the couch with a quart of cotton candy flavored ice cream in my hands and heavy, fuzzy, blanket resting over my shoulders. The movie was playing on the television and Shinju was already making wise cracks about the production and cast of characters. She made some half-assed joke about Cal's feminine eyebrows and laughter bubbled past my lips.

_Maybe I didn't need therapy, _I thought absentmindedly, digging into the pink and blue hued ice-cream with the dull edge of my spoon.

_Maybe I just needed my oddball friend to be there to cheer me up._

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"Holy mother of - "

I looked up from my fridge-raid, eyebrows arched in a silent question.

"What is it?"

Shinju didn't respond, just continued to stare open-mouthed at the television screen. I rolled my eyes and closed the refrigerator door, bottle of lemonade in hand. I trekked back over to the couch and plopped back down in my previously claimed spot.

"He_llo_? Anyone home? Shinju?"

"SHH!" she snapped. I blinked owlishly.

"What is it?"

"I said _shush! _Just look at the TV!"

I sighed and turned to stare at the glowing screen. Shinju cranked the volume and sat leering at the program playing out in front of her, utterly transfixed. After a moment or two of seemingly unrelated clips playing against background music and a flurry of commercials ranging from sleep aids to bananas, the reporter reappeared.

"_Welcome back. As mentioned before our commercial break, the station has received some fresh news involving the Kira case that may enrage quite a few anti-Kira activists."_

Shinju squealed and clutched her own blanket tightly beneath her chin. I rolled my eyes and took a swig of my lemonade.

"You dragged me away from the fridge for _this?_"

"Shut your face. I can't hear what the lady's saying," she complained, continuing to raise the volume.

The posh looking woman on the television screen shuffled the papers in her manicured hands and cleared her throat before beginning to read.

"_Earlier today, it was confirmed officially that the Japanese Task Force originally assembled as an attempt to track down and incarcerate Kira in 2003 has been disbanded indefinitely." _

Shinju shot out of her seat as she cheered, hopping excitedly around the room. My brow furrowed at the news. _I'd just talked with them, the task force… I'd only talked with them _three days ago_. What the Hell had happened?_ I leaned forward to get a better look at the screen, resting my elbows on my knees.

"_According to our sources, most of the force was killed when an explosion set an empty warehouse known as the 'Yellow box' on fire. Unfortunately, the officers situated in the area did not make it out of the building before its foundation caught flame and collapsed."_

My eyes narrowed. Something about that explanation sounded… _off_. An abandoned warehouse just _exploding_? Not likely. Something, _or someone_, would have had to set it off.

"_A large portion of the members of Japan's police force suspect Kira activists were the ones to set off the explosion."_

Well, that answered that question.

"_Many believe that it was some sort of twisted response to the death of Lady Takada - Kira's late and much beloved spokesperson."_

I gulped, feeling that familiar ice-ball of guilt form in my stomach. Shinju smirked.

"Nice going."

I sneered back at her, eyes narrowed venomously.

"Shut up."

"_After this horrible occurrence," _the reporter continued, _"the few remaining members willingly resigned from the case at the request of the current head of the NPA in order to ensure their safety."_

I hoped Matsuda was still alive. He'd been friendly enough. It may have seemed a bit heartless for me to say so, but if _someone _had to have died, I secretly hoped that Yagami, Light was the one. The world was better off without jerks like him. All the others had seemed like fairly decent people.

"_The Chief of Police made this statement involving the matter during a press conference."_

The image on the screen transitioned into a slightly grainy looking video taken in a small, whitewashed room filled with men in suits and metal fold up chairs. The shot focused on a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and large beads of sweat resting atop his upper lip.

"_Since 2003, my men and women have been hunting down Kira to no avail. This was not the same as pursuing a regular criminal." _He readjusted his orange and yellow striped tie._ "I have lost a number of my finest officers in those seven years and refuse to lose anymore to this case. If L couldn't solve it, I don't know a soul in the world who can." _Again, he fiddled with his tie. _"To spare the innocent lives of my police officers and the grief of their family members, I am officially pulling Japan's police force out of the Kira case."_

I sat back against the couch as the image of the sweaty man faded back to the elegantly made-up reporter.

"This is great!"

"…"

She sighed.

"I knew you wouldn't be enthusiastic."

I frowned and answered with a halfhearted grunt. Shinju frowned and plopped back down on the couch.

"You've got that 'thinky' look about you. What is it?"

I sighed.

"It's…strange. I just talked to the task force three days ago after the whole motorcycle incident. I can't believe that in barely seventy-two hours, they no longer exist. The Kira case is done and over with. Officially."

"Are you upset that Kira wasn't caught?" she asked.

I shrugged halfheartedly, averting my gaze to glance out the window.

"I never cared either way."

Shinju rolled her eyes. She retained her serious composure for all of five more seconds before her face cracked in a gigantic grin. With another squeal, she collapsed back against the couch in a fit of ecstatic giggles.

"I still can't believe it! We won. We actually _won! Not that I ever doubted Kira to begin with… _but we still did it!" she cheered, throwing her hands up into the air. "Do we have any champagne?"

"Why would we have _champagne?_" I frowned. I _despised_ the smell of any alcoholic product alone, let alone the acrid taste, and Shinju was far too lazy to shop around for anything other than junk food.

"Incase we needed to celebrate!" she shot back, hopping over the back of the couch and skipping to the kitchenette. She yanked open the refrigerator door and stuck her nose in, snooping around inside.

"Celebrate _what_?"

"A marvelous occasion such as this!" she beamed. Shinju began opening cabinets and drawers and closets before finally sighing and settling on an unopened bottle of melon flavored soda. She pulled two mismatching glasses from a cabinet and headed back over to the couch.

The brunette placed the cups on our small coffee table with a 'thud' and filled them to the brim with fruity, green colored, soda. She slid one in my direction, lifting the other high in the air.

"To Kira!" she toasted, tapping the edge of her glass against my own.

I cradled the cup in my hands, staring into the fizzy, green liquid. Slowly, I raised the rim to my lips.

_You're drinking to a murderer._

I paused.

_Kira killed those men. They were innocent. He killed them because they got in his way. Who else has he killed that you don't know about? Not just criminals, I assure you. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer._

Shinju guzzled her own drink and reached for the bottle to pour herself another round. I knew what she would say if I voiced my thoughts: _Who cares? _That was right. Who _did_ care? Kira had distorted everyone's judgment when it came to 'good' and 'bad.' A handful of people, hardworking, everyday, men who had families and friends and lives, were killed off as easily as if I'd snapped my fingers… and people were _celebrating. _

_Sacrifices are necessary to win any war._

There was a moment of silence in my mind while the other part of my brain digested what my subconscious had blurted. My face twisted in self disgust at my train of thought and I stood from my seat, heading over to the kitchen.

"Huh? Masami? Where are you going?"

"I'm not thirsty."

I walked over to stand by the sink, knuckles snowy white from my death grip on the cup. I tipped the glass upside down, emptying its contents into the shining basin. The emerald liquid pooled at the bottom for a moment before swirling downwards and into the drain.

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Light took a drawn out sip from his mug of tea, allowing himself a moment to savor the minty yet sweet taste. He leaned back into the comfortable material of his couch with a content smirk on his lips.

The female reporter who had described Kira's victory to the world had long since disappeared from the glowing television screen. Her image had been replaced by clips and live feeds sent in by roaming reporters who were questioning people on the streets. The responses of the interviewed were exactly as he'd predicted.

There were those who were over exuberant to the point of being ridiculous - much like Misa. Many of those clips were cut short. Then, there was the typical response of the average citizen. They seemed pleased and were more than willing to accept Kira. Then, of course, there were the people who disagreed with Kira's principals; however, knowing that Kira had won, they were now reserved - either choosing to not be interviewed or subtly claiming that they were shocked by the outcome.

Light took another sip from the steaming beverage. He retrieved the remote and flicked to the next channel. Another news anchor was repeating the tale of the Task Force's downfall. He smirked.

The genius had done a splendid job of fabricating a believable and verifiable lie about the event that occurred the day earlier. He'd had an alibi - thanks to Misa, the infatuated ditz - and no evidence could ever be found to incriminate him. Nothing. Except the book in his lap.

Light opened the death note and idly glanced through the long lists of names. Pages upon pages of carefully planned executions filled the book spanning from when he'd first picked up the notebook almost seven years ago to not three hours ago. It was like an autobiography of Kira.

"Still looking through the death note? Feeling _nostalgic?_"

Light didn't bother to greet the Shinigami.

"What do you need, Ryuk?"

"Can't I just stop in to say hello?" the death god cackled. "But if you _really_ want to know, you're out of apples again."

Light's golden-brown eyes continued to rove over the pages.

"Tell Misa."

"But she's been acting whacky all day since her memories of the notebook were restored," Ryuk whined. "What if she buys the wrong kind again? Or worse, what if she doesn't even buy _apples?_"

Light sighed, running a hand through his mused hair.

"Go _with_ her then."

"I told you. She's been acting funny. I don't want anything to do with her."

Light's brow furrowed a bit.

"Funny _how?_" The last thing he needed at the moment was for the blonde model to have a breakdown. One, he still needed her for a new Shinigami Eye Deal, and two, if she ran out on the street screeching about being the second Kira (even if Kira _had_ won), there would be trouble.

"It's like she's _thinking _really hard about something… _which is really weird_."

Light rolled his eyes. After another moment of flipping through the death note, he closed the book with a 'snap.' He glanced halfheartedly back into the kitchen.

"Misa."

"Yes, Light-kun?" she beamed, popping her blonde head out of the doorway.

"How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm fine! I'm fine! Thank you for asking, sweetie~" she giggled. Light stared silently at her for a moment before the model let out a heavy sigh and leaned somewhat dramatically against the doorframe, hand placed over her heart. "I'm just worried that if I make the eye deal _again_, then I won't be around for all of our children and their children! I want a family with a little girl and a set of twins, both boys that look just like you but have my eyes of course, and I - "

Light went back to flipping through his death note. If all Misa was worrying about was future issues involving a family, he didn't care. As long as she remained loyal and had a set of working eyes, she was useful. That's all that mattered. She was a tool. That was all she would ever be.

He flicked to the next page.

Besides. She wouldn't be around long enough to worry about constructing the 'perfect little family.'

"Oh! I forgot to tell you!" Misa chirped, plopping down on the couch next to him and snuggling obnoxiously into his side. "A man from the Japanese Police Force called to tell you about your new job on the force. You start tomorrow!"

Light's eyes flickered.

"I see."

It had been easy enough to secure a position in the Japanese Police. His father's reputation had been more than enough of a foundation to start upon. For now, he had a simple 'desk' job with little actual

"I was hoping you would start a bit later," the blonde lamented with a heavy sigh. "I wanted to spend some more time with you~"

"Work is work."

"AH! Right! I forgot to tell you! Do you think I could come of my little 'retirement.' Gosh, I hate saying _retirement. _It makes me feel so old! All those grey hairs and wrinkles…" she shuddered. "Anyways," she continued, face alight, "I was offered a role in this new movie and the money is _really _good and there's _all _these perks that come with it -"

"Do what you want."

"Aww~ I knew you'd be supportive!" she giggled.

Ryuk stared apprehensively at the blonde model, silently debating whether he could deem her sane enough to head to a store, purchase apples, and safely transport them home. After a moment of silence, he seemed to decide that eating the apples would be more than worth jeopardizing the fruits' safety.

"Hey, Misa. Can we go buy some apples?"

"But we have some in the kitchen!"

"But those are _green_ apples."

"So…?"

"They're not _red_."

Misa sighed dramatically, falling back against the couch pillows.

"Fine, fine. Light-kun, do you need anything at the store?"

The genius didn't bother to glance up, simply continuing to browse through the pages of his death note. Misa let out yet another heavy sigh, pulling herself off the couch with a series of languid stretches.

"You and that book…"

Ryuk cackled, following her to the doorway and waiting as she slipped on a pair of chunky black heels and grabbed her equally bulky and dark purse.

"He may need a few extra pens. I bet he's gonna' go through a Hell of a lot of names."

Light smirked as the door closed behind them, fishing for the ballpoint pen in his pocket. He reached for the television remote and the TV hummed to life. He skimmed a few channels before landing on a standard news station. His eyes watched carefully as names and pictures scrolled across the glowing screen before placing the tip of the writing utensil against the lined paper and beginning to scratch away.

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**Sorry for the long-ish wait. I think I explained my current laptop/typing situation on my other Fanfiction and I don't really feel like retyping it (or just copying and pasting it, but whatever…)**

**Until next time~**


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